


Fade to Black

by TORUKAisJUSTICE



Series: The Art of Stalking [6]
Category: ONE OK ROCK
Genre: BDSM, Forgive Me, M/M, Please Don't Kill Me, Teacher-Student Relationship, Toruka - Freeform, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 00:58:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TORUKAisJUSTICE/pseuds/TORUKAisJUSTICE
Summary: It's been years since the first and last time they saw each other. What had happened to make them like this?





	Fade to Black

**Author's Note:**

> Me writing HTMHF: *stares at the two paragraphs on screen* **Nah. Too much drama.**  
>  Me trying to write DREAMERS: *stares at the initial draft* **Nah. Too much fluff.**  
>  Me trying not to rip my hair off because of anxiety and stress: **Oh. I still have that one draft!**
> 
> And so, this is the prologue of a story which was planned to be so damn fluffy and sweet and light. I sincerely offered my apologies to the owners of the plot, the Taka and Toru of the Cult, because I TOTALLY BOMBED YOUR PURE, PURE PLAY. I AM SO FUCKED. AND I'M ALSO BLEEDING TO DEATH BECAUSE OF A MASSIVE BLUSHING SPREE.
> 
>  
> 
> This part is personal:  
> Also, hello there you shitty bastard. Can you read this? Even after I told you not to? I do hope you had your fill now you fucking bitch. I hope your happy. Very happy.
> 
> Enough drama.
> 
> Warning: This contains explicit sexual contents, and some shit. Please turn away and never ever go near this story, and my other ones rated with explicit if you're not comfortable with those shits. You have been warned.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own OOR and will never be. This is purely a work of fiction. Please don't sue me.

" _Ahhhn_!"

  
Takahiro gritted his teeth as he felt the blunt nails dig into the soft flesh of his hips. His mind is reeling at the sensations being inflicted upon him— _pain, pleasure_ , he's not so sure what overrides which anymore—all that matters is this...this _insufferable_ need to be _filled_ , to be _used_ , to be _controlled_ and to _surrender_ all his everything to something, to someone as he reaches the peak he's been craving for so long now. He could not really see in this position, bent over a huge mahogany table, the paper clips and pens digging into his skin—his vision is blurry, as sweat rolled from his furrowed forehead, down to his brows and clinging to his thick, long eyelashes.

  
"Good..." he heard him say behind him, as Taka moaned in pain as the warm chest plastered itself over his wound-ridden back. It _stings_ —even the sweat coating their bodies could not reduce the rough friction between the larger body and the lashes on his back—but he didn't dare to cry out, he could not, _would not_ —because he had _asked_ for this.

  
_Begged_ for this.

  
Over and _over_ again until the man finally snapped, his patience thrown out of the fucking window before he had succumbed to his desperate wishes.

  
"You've been so _good_..." he mumbled against his pink-tipped ears, a loud keening sound escaping his swollen lips as the man roughly thrust forward, almost sending Taka's body sliding further up the dark, wooden table, "You like that? You like that, you...you..."

  
Yes, yes, _yes_!

  
His mind screamed with every powerful movement, his hips getting pummeled with every strong thrust like he's going deeper and deeper— _further and further_ until he can only hear the loud smacking sounds of skin against skin, of those hips connecting with the vibrant redness of his cheeks as he buried himself balls deep before pulling out completely, repeating the maddening pace over and over again .

  
"Who would have thought..."

  
_No, no, don't speak any more..._

  
Taka wanted to kick the man to shut those perfectly sculpted lips up. He don't want _words_ , don't want any _conversation_ because all he wanted is to get the fucking of his life but there's something about that deep baritone that sends shiver down to his spine and straight to his cock.

  
He whimpered as his pink, little member hit the table with every pounding he gets. The tip is leaking, _weeping and begging_ to be relieved but to no avail, because the man had skillfully tied a ribbon on it. A red ribbon tied tightly around his member, preventing him to come, dragging this blissful _torture_ for hours.

  
_But I can't...I wan't...need_...

  
He tried sneaking his hand down, to touch it, just a bit of it. He's so hard the burn in his belly is making him feel crazed—add that to the raw feeling of his wounds and sore muscles—but the large hand smacked it away, grabbing both of his arms and roughly pulled it over his head as he pushed further into him with a bruising pace, "Who told you that you can touch yourself, huh?!"

  
Taka shook at the roughness of that voice being spoken right next to his ear. _God_ , that sounds so sexy and so much like _sin_ that it should be fucking illegal and it makes Taka want to _melt and beg_ and just...go down onto his knees to _submit_ and follow his every words...

  
"I-I'm sorry—!" he gasped, eyes glazing over as he turned his head to a side, his feverish cheek resting on the cool, shiny wood, "I'm sorry, please don't—,"

  
_Don't stop._

  
_Use me more._

  
_Fuck me even more._

  
_More_.

  
_Love me._

  
_Hurt me._

  
_Do every fucking thing to me—_

  
A silent scream was torn out of his mouth when the man grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back and making his vision went blank for a moment.

  
Hurts. Hurts. _Hurts_.

  
"You really want to get punished, huh," he breathed against the tender skin of his shoulder, "Maybe I...ah...maybe I should really punish you for real this time, Moriuchi-kun..?"

  
It hurts so much, but unlike his _nightmares_ , unlike his _previous_ experiences, it's actually making him feel _good_. For real.

  
Instead of getting scared shitless of that threat, Taka, being the masochistic bastard he is, felt his blood sizzle at that. _Punished_? He'll get punishment? His head reeled so fucking fast, images of lewd scenes involving cuffs and chains and whips and leathers and toys he could only imagine all these years building into his mind, his sensations being sent to an overdrive as he trudged on the precipice of release. His skin _tingles_ at those flashes because it will _surely involve_ pain— _lots and lots of pain_ —and he can feel, feel it now, just by thinking of it—the sting on his wrists, ropes digging into his flesh in all ways possible, the cold metal of chains sliding and clanking with every movement, the velvety walls of his most private parts getting roughly _invaded_ , _plundered_ and _owned_ by that thick, hot girth, and sharp cannines sinking themselves on his shoulder—all those imaginary sensations makes him heaved, eyes almost rolling at the back of his head as he tried, _god knows how hard,_ he tried to live in the present, to be grounded in reality.

  
" _Yesssss_ ," he hissed, pushing his hips back in an eager manner instead of pulling away, "please... _please_...punish me..I'm...I'm— _oh god!"_

  
His eyes darted on their reflection on the cabinet across the wall. The room is dark, barely illuminated by the soft moonlight streaming through the french doors, but Taka can see him— _them_ —on the glass, his head thrown back, hips jutted out as the man with dirty blonde hair keep their bodes connected—his back twisted and arching like a bow waiting to be freed and released from all the tension.

  
"Good...yes, you should see yourself, Mori...so _fucking beautiful._.." the man groaned, Taka's breath hitching and his heart skipping beat after beats with his every piston. His cheeks burned as he whimpers and whined at those words. Yes, whatever he says, Taka would blindly obey it just...just...

  
"Please, please, _please_..."

  
"Me...come for me... _good_ boy..."

  
Taka frantically nodded, his eyes glazing with tears as he stood on the tips of his toes, his mind wondering on how he ended up like this, how the innocent meeting years and years ago led him into this state, how he had pined over the same man for months, wanting nothing but to be _held_ , to be _loved_ , to be _fucked_ like this— _hard, fast, raw_ —how he had managed to get his teacher, his music teacher, behind him, half-clothed—dominating and sending all kinds of pleasure that Taka had ever only dreamt of _feeling_ , of _tasting_ —while Taka is spread wide open, hole clenching and unclenching to suck that cock into the deepest part of him even if it burns and burns and fucking hurts—

  
"So, so fucking good!"

  
_God!_

  
He sobbed, tears rolling down his tears like waterfalls as the man's movements grew erratic, grew restless and aimless—pounding and drilling into him with _merciless abandon._ He can barely register the hand that sensually slid down his sweat-slicked body, from his neck to his collar bones, down to his dulating, flat belly to his aching, weeping cock, freeing it from the constraints and—and—

  
"S-sensei—!" he gasped, blinding white light flashing under the lids of his eyes as the heavenly feeling crashed all around him. The pain, the burning sensation drowns all the rest, making him forget all the shits—the school, the band, his parents, the fact that this man would never love him—every thing fades to black as he _surrenders_ to him.  
And it feels _good_. So _fucking_ good that he can feel all his muscles sagged, his entire frame almost crashing on the table if it's not for the strong arms that secured him by the waist as he rode out his own orgasm, filling Taka with thay warm, _warm_ liquid that does nothing to soothe the burn within him.

  
Toru-san.. _Toru-san._..

  
So good... _so good._..

  
He can't feel his limbs, can't feel the hips that was still connected with his plump ass, can't feel the pain and welts on his back, but it does not matter. _Nothing_ matters anymore, because for once, the high and adrenaline and pleasure was enough to make him forget _things_ , make him forget _people_ , make him forget his horrid, abuse-filled _past_ , make him forget even _himself_.

  
"Good...you're so good for me, Moriuchi-kun..." Toru-san whisphered against the skin of his shoulders, licking the myriads of wounds he had just inflicted on it, "so fucking good..."

  
Taka exhaustedly beamed, his breath coming out in soft puffs as he threw one last glance at their reflection on the glass. He could see the Music teacher bent over him, his entire body draped over Taka's smaller one, his eyes closed in _ecstasy_ , biting his lip as he made a few more lazy thrusts into Taka's limp, quivering body. Taka can see his clothes ripped apart on the floor, leather cuffs and collar strewn over it along with toys slicked and shining with liquids. But above all, he can see himself—eyes glazed in _euphoria_ , cheeks red and puffy lips parted open in a soundless scream—his body arching and shaking, shining with sweat with all kinds of fluids dribbling down his trembling legs.

  
He looked so _debauched_ , looked so _used_ , looked like someone had just fucking _abused_ and _beaten_ him, and yet...and yet...

 

 

 

  
Taka has never— _ever_ — felt so fucking _content_ in his life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
Who would have thought that giving another person all the control over you would feel so _fucking_ good?

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *hides under my cats...
> 
>  
> 
> ...please tell me what you think...
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading~


End file.
